


At the Morannon

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: General, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 17:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3777850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aragorn's pov while he is at the gates of Mordor before the final battle. oneshot movieverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Morannon

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Lotr characters though I wish I did. They are property of Tolkien.

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~At the Morannon~

He stood in front of the Black Gates, Anduril held in hand, ready for battle. But he did not want battle, not yet anyway. He wanted to was perhaps try to negotiate, if it was humanly possible in such circumstances.

“Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth. Let justice be done upon him!” he cried, though knowing deep in his heart that Sauron would never venture beyond his guarded fortress and expose himself to danger, however powerful he was. Indeed, the Maiar would most probably send one of his aides, or even his whole army.

He was proven right when the doors slowly opened to reveal the army, armoured and ready for battle. His heart went to his mouth as he saw their numbers... far too many to count. The men were severely outnumbered, and this was suicide.

He turned and spurred Brego back towards the army, faintly aware of the others following close behind him. The men were clearly afraid, fidgeting restlessly in their saddles and he knew that they would not hesitate to turn tail and run for their lives.

He tried to rouse them in battle like that time years ago when he was under Denethor’s service, to make them fight fiercely as they should, and try, at the very least, to give some hope that Sauron would be defeated.

“Men of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers. I see in your eyes the same fear that will take the heart of me!” he started, trying to keep calm on an excited Brego. “A day may come, when the courage of Men fail, when we forsake our friends, and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of Men comes crashing down. But it is not this day. This day we fight! For all that you hold dear to this good earth, I bid you stand! Men of the West!”

The men agreed in a ringing battle cry, drawing their swords and pledging their lives to him. Never in his life would he have thought that he would be in command of huge army of Men, though he had been readied for it long before it came. He felt the adrenaline course through him furiously as he turned back towards the Morannon.

Sauron was staring at him, and he slowly looked up and returned the ‘favor’. They were both locked in a contest of wills for the second time, though this time, there were no barriers, nor false pretences shielding them from harm anymore. And he knew that Sauron would stop at nothing to break him.

He felt Sauron’s pull on him, coercing him in words of honey to join him, and tried valiantly not to succumb to it, for not resisting it would lead him to the paths his forebears went those scores of years ago.

Now, if never, was not the time to fail.

An image flashed into his mind without warning. An image of Arwen, but a hair breadth’s away from the dreaded halls of Mandos, painfully inhale the sacred air that felt her alive... though not for long. A pang resonated in his heart that her fate was tied with the fate of the ring. He had to do something to prevent his love from passing. He must.

_Aragorn...Elessar..._

Sauron was now calling to him in his mind, and slowly he felt getting pulled to the fallen Maiar’s side, feeling the urge to throw Anduril down on the ground, to renounce all his people, to stride over and join the Maiar’s army.

He started forward with every hope of surrendering, for Sauron had imbued such despair and sense of lost in him that he had no hope anymore. The Evenstar thumped against his neck as he stepped forward, as Anduril slowly slipped from his tight grasp...

And was held firmly in his grip again.

He turned behind, to face the others, who were waiting expectantly for him to sound the battle order.

“For Frodo,” he said as rushed to meet with the oncoming black tide.

He faintly felt the soldiers following him as he ran forward. Somehow he knew even if he met his demise, even if the Ringbearer had failed, there would always be those who would be free from the darkness, who would fight for the light.

THE END.

 

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Please R&R!


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